“Well yes I did as it goes” my face cracking into a smile by the last word. Smearing the last of his own Pâté onto a corner of toast and holding it between his thumb and index finger, he reaches across the table, stopping so it’s hovering just in front of my mouth. It’s too close to remove it with my hand, so he can only be expecting me to eat it out of his fingers; Whoa this is full on! Is this what dates are like now? I’ve barely even said two words to this man and yet I’m expected to be ready to lick something out of his hand? It’s only been thirty minutes since he picked me up, can I really pull off the confidence needed for this seductive manoeuvre?
Sensing my hesitation his face falls and he begins to retract the offer, but suddenly, without thinking, I grab his wrist, lean in and take it, making sure my lips encircle the tips of his fingers, then use my tongue to free the morsel, running it provocatively through his fingers at the same time. Letting go of his wrist and leaning back in my chair I give him my sweetest smile.
The glint in his eye returns immediately, he shakes his head in mock disbelief. “Thanks” I say as my shyness returns. I can’t believe I just did that!
The moment is broken too soon as the waiter returns and clears our plates. I take the opportunity to down as much of my drink as I can, bubbles permitting, at this rate I think I’m going to need all the courage I can get.
The main course appears shortly, chicken breast, stuffed with a wild mushroom puree and a creamy Dijon mustard sauce. I purposely slow down my eating, taking my time to savour each delicious bite, and hopefully look a little more ladylike, after practically inhaling the Pâté.
Between mouthfuls we make polite small talk, Carlos tells me he lives and works here at the hotel, I tell him about the advertising company I work for. I skim over briefly how I was married, but am now separated, leaving out most of the details. He does not divulge any further information about his past (or present) love life. We move to a more neutral conversation, traveling, we both would love to see the world, but both have had limited chances to, for varying reasons.
By the time the main courses are done I am on my forth flute of champagne and feeling pleasantly tipsy; Carlos tells me there is a local band playing in one of the bars in an hour and suggests we go along.
The sun has now set and I can see they have lit a number of lanterns that stretch the length of the beach, the fire reflects in the sea causing yellow glimmers to jump up and down on the waves, it looks so magical, “can we take a walk along the shore?” I ask dreamily, gazing at the view.
“Of course” he replies, taking my hand and promptly leading me back down stairs and out to the sand.
As we step off the firm path and onto the beach I am quickly unbalanced by my heels, Carlos grasps both of my forearms to steady me, then slowly begins to lower himself down, his hands sliding to my waist, so that he is kneeling in front of me. I watch him slip his hands over my hips, brushing tantalisingly close to my buttocks, then down my thighs, I am hypnotised by his touch. At my knees he puts a little pressure behind the left one, lifting my leg so that my foot rests on his bent knee and carefully removes my shoe, repeating the process with the other foot. Once he has finished he picks up my shoes and stands giving a triumphant “there!” as he takes my hand and strolls on, oblivious to my now quivering legs.
Carlos has an uncanny ability to turn almost anything into a double entendre, consequently in the short walk from the restaurant I find we are inevitably talking about sex. He has asked me if I am the type to initiate sex or not, laughing at his blatancy I reply “Err, I guess not, no. I’m more of an old fashioned kind of girl, I want a man who will open doors for me, carry heavy bags and take control in the bedroom!” we both fall about laughing, still giddy from the alcohol.